<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>time machine by lynxleitmotif</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631505">time machine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynxleitmotif/pseuds/lynxleitmotif'>lynxleitmotif</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>alone (at the edge of a universe humming a tune) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Skyrates, highly niche, what the hell else do I put here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:40:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynxleitmotif/pseuds/lynxleitmotif</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It started in Baltica. The space on her jacket where the family sigil had been sewn seemed so empty, the dark blue fabric so strangely bare, a cavity in EF's chest that she knew would take years to fill again, no matter what she did. But she could start, at least. </p><p>When she saw the patch in one of the colony's countless small shops, she bought it without hesitation. A barn swallow silhouetted against a circle of cornflower blue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Female Character (Implied)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>alone (at the edge of a universe humming a tune) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833658</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Skyrates from Knowhere</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>time machine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>haha haha ha ha</p><p>you may have seen this before but I've added <strike>some more projection</strike> a few new things</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>EF sets down the needle and thread, holding the jacket out in front of her to examine it and its new decoration. California's patch now rests on one of the sleeves, palm trees overlooking an expanse of the ocean. It fits, as if it's always belonged there, right next to its neighbors.  </p><p>It started in Baltica. The space on her jacket where the family sigil had been sewn seemed so empty, the dark blue fabric so strangely bare, a cavity in EF's chest that she knew would take years to fill again, no matter what she did. But she could start, at least. </p><p>When she saw the patch in one of the colony's countless small shops, she bought it without hesitation. A barn swallow silhouetted against a circle of cornflower blue. It fit, perfectly, just like, like...</p><p><i>Nagu rusikas silmaauku?</i> After a second, she abandons her search for the correct English expression, allowing her train of thought to wash her away again.</p><p>As she traveled, her collection grew. Alongside the swallow, a plump red Azerbaijani pomegranate, a brightly colored elephant from the sprawling Delhi colony, a golden fourty-rayed sun from the nomads of the Tian Shan mountains, the smiling face of a fox among cherry blossoms from Keihanshin, London's name stitched onto the famed logo of its maglev network. More and more, every single one attached to memories that she knew were already starting to blur together, to fade. </p><p>
  <strike>Zeynab, Gita, Nurlan, Kaito, Astrid, names that used to mean everything to her, that have been reduced to nothing but words attached to a scrap of fabric, memories that would all disappear with time, moments she can never get back no matter how much she wants to.</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>A promise that still echoes through her mind. The one she's never been able to keep, no matter how many times she tries to.</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <i>I'll see you soon.</i>
  </strike>
</p><p>But she can't let herself forget. She won't. If the memories, the patches, are the only things that remain, she won't let herself let go.</p><p>Especially not the memories of the patch she'd sewn right over her heart.</p><p>A violin. </p><p>~</p><p>
  <i>"Where are you from? Originally, I mean."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Oh! Have I never said? I was born in Vienna."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I've never heard of it."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I'm not surprised. It's not that far from Baltica, actually. It's a human colony, so no wonder you've never been there, although I assume it's a lot easier for a powered to sneak into a human colony than the other way around. But... it's beautiful. Some of the oldest architecture that's left in the European region, a lot of culture, a lot of history."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I wish I could see it."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Maybe I'll take you there someday. Could be fun! I think you'd like the opera house."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Well, now that you've mentioned an opera house, you'll have to take me!"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Then it's a deal! Yeah, it's really been a while since I saw Vienna. Might be nice to visit again."</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>It was no wonder they hadn't been able to stay side by side. </p><p>Sol is a wanderer at heart, always has been. And while EF indulged in that lifestyle for more than a year, enjoyed it, even... she'd never quite been able to take to it like Sol had. </p><p>There was always a longing in her heart. For a place to settle, people to stick by her side, familiarity instead of the thrill of the new. Knowhere had granted her that, but she knew Sol could never have thrived here. Lived, maybe, yes, but never thrived. </p><p>And still...</p><p>She can't forget. </p><p>She had tried to let the fire of their time together, the memory of her, burn out, but she never could. </p><p>They'd parted on good terms, yes, promised to see each other again, but... EF doesn't know where Sol is, now. Doesn't know if Sol even thinks about her anymore. She wants to see her again, now, more than anything... and it hurts to think that Sol might not feel the same way, that she might not even care anymore.</p><p>
  <strike>The one person she wanted to keep close to her heart, the times together she'd begged to never end, she can't let Sol become nothing but another name on her list of broken promises, Zeynab Gita Nurlan Kaito Astrid Cholpon Ha-Yun Isla Lilith Gavril Lucy Kaisa Sol Sol <i>Sol</i>,</strike>
</p><p>The memory of her burns. But in her darkest days, the fire still keeps her warm.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>